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/lit/ - Literature

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2969647 No.2969647 [Reply] [Original]

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not.--Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.

>> No.2969656

>>2969647
>guys look how entry level I am

>> No.2969658
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2969658

>>2969656

>> No.2969667

What a terrible poem

>> No.2969692

I like it

>> No.2969700

Hmm I've never read that before, but I quite like it. I should really read the Romantics - I feel like I'm missing out.

Sonnet 37, John Berryman

Sigh as it ends... I keep an eye on your
Amour with Scotch,—too cher to consummate;
Faster your disappearing beer than late-
ly mine; your naked passion for the floor;
Your hollow leg; your hanker for one more
Dark as the Sundam Trench; how you dilate
Upon psychotics of this class, collate
Stages, and... how long since you, well, forbore.

Ah, but the high fire sings on to be fed
Whipping our darkness by the lifting sea
A while, O darling drinking like a clock.
The tide comes on: spare, Time, from what you spread
Her story,—tilting a frozen Daiquiri,
Blonde, barefoot, beautiful,
___flat on the bare floor rivetted to Bach.

>> No.2969846
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2969846

>>2969700

>> No.2969854

>posting your shitty poetry on 4chan
You truly can't sink any lower.

>> No.2969864
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2969864

>>2969854
>your shitty poetry
>Wordsworth and Berryman

>> No.2969870

>>2969854
Did you already forget about myspace circa 2006?

>> No.2969886

>>2969647
Decent stuff, but it's probably entry level since I'm not very well-read when it comes to poetry. However I don't like your title, it's trying too hard.

>> No.2969903

>>2969656
>The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Pleb here. I understand the idea of this poem but I don't understand this line here.